


Overworked

by imaginethat57



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Janeway loves coffee, Not much plot, but a healthy dose of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginethat57/pseuds/imaginethat57
Summary: Janeway works far too hard, and Seven finally decides to do something about it. But how does one get a dedicated starship captain to walk away from her work and take care of herself?
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine
Comments: 15
Kudos: 106





	Overworked

_The plasma manifolds on Deck 14, section 36 overheated due to an ion discharge, resulting in warp core shut down._

Janeway rubbed absentmindedly at the sore, tight muscles of her neck and shoulders, but she did not remove her bleary eyed focus from the monitor screen as she forced herself to read yet another engineering report. This same sentence was taunting her; she’d read the simple string of words six times and retained none of the meaning. Groaning, she sipped at her coffee and forced herself to continue reading. At the very least, the replicator from her ready room actually granted her hot coffee, and she savored the warmth and bold flavor on her tongue. Well, as bold as Starfleet replicators could manage.

Fortified with a brief burst of energy from the taste more than the caffeine, she channeled the focus of her brain into processing the sentence. Finally, her mind acquiesced to translating the symbols on the screen into intelligible information.

And then promptly got stuck, stuttering to a halt again and leaving her staring with a blank mien and heavy eyelids at the next sentence.

_...expected to be warp enabled by the end of the day tomorrow._

Janeway slouched forward, resting her aching head in her hands with elbows propped against the desk. Groaning again, she shut her eyes against the dry report, against the pain in her temples. She didn’t bother checking the time; she was past caring. The day had extended into a lengthy, drawn out mess, and the hour mark was irrelevant to her at this point. There was still so much work to do after taking heavy damage to their warp core during the unfortunate ion storm they had encountered earlier, but she allowed herself this brief moment to rest.

When the electronic chime of her door sounded, she didn’t react for a moment. She needed another minute to be exhausted and bored and human before she faced whoever was behind the door. Only a short moment, all she could afford. Eventually, she lifted her head, and took a deep breath before settling firmly back into her authoritative presence. Her voice carried strong and clear, calling, “Come in.”

After the events of the day, any one of her senior officers could have reason to be at her ready room door at this undoubtedly late hour. Still, she wasn’t surprised when the doors hissed open and revealed who had been waiting behind them.

“Seven,” she greeted calmly.

“Captain.”

“What can I do for you?”

She had to ask this question, to a degree. She asked the same to any who came seeking out their captain. Looking out for her crew was a part of the job description, after all. Stuck in the Delta Quadrant, however, the responsibility had taken on a new meaning for her. Voyager was her family, and every single member of Janeway’s ship mattered to her in a way that no Starfleet command training could have ever prepared her for. She owed this crew her unfaltering dedication in protecting them, bringing them home safely, and providing for their wellbeing. Over the years, the task had eventually begun to feel less like a job. Even less so where Seven was concerned, though she paid that tidbit no mind.

This time, Seven didn’t stop to stand at attention as she approached the center of the room like she normally would. She closed in on the desk instead, speaking decisively as she neared Janeway. “You have finished your work for this evening.”

The words were firmly stated, more like a command despite having no real imperative structure to their phrasing. Had she been less exhausted, Janeway would have undoubtedly irked at the audacity of a member of her crew marching into her ready room and attempting to order the captain about. She was well acquainted with Seven’s particular brand of imperious audacity though, and she noted the woman wasn’t hesitating in her approach, evidently intent on accomplishing some mission. Having no idea what angle Seven was playing at, and no energy to attempt to discern the woman’s end goal, Janeway rolled her eyes and said matter of factly, “I have not. I have several reports to get through still, not to mention-”

Her computer was pushed shut, and the padd was plucked from her hand before she could finish her sentence. She whipped her head up to Seven, incredulous anger rising at the presumptuous action. She stood, bracing herself against her desk with two hands gripping the edge as she leaned forward with a thinly maintained patience. She had no interest in entertaining yet another lengthy discussion with Seven about propriety and the chain of command that evening. “Seven. What do you think you’re doing?”

Unfazed, Seven continued to shut down Janeway’s work station for the night. She didn’t react to the menacing tone to Janeway’s voice, nor did she answer the question directly. Instead, she further emphasized her point by saying, “You have worked long past the designated end to your shift. The reports will wait until tomorrow.”

Then, she picked up Janeway’s cup of half-finished, still hot coffee, and turned in the direction of the recycler on the upper level of the ready room. _One step too far_ , Janeway thought. She had her limits to how much she would allow, even from Seven.

Seven did not stop on her way to the recycler, though the atmosphere of the room had taken a decidedly ominous turn. Her strides were determined as she spoke without turning around, without noticing or without acknowledging this ambient tonal shift. “You frequently forget to ingest nutrition. Today you have missed two meals. You cannot subsist on coffee alone.”

Janeway darted forward, moving out from behind her desk and around the other woman, nimbly intercepting Seven’s path, then placing her hand on the cup of coffee to successfully halt Seven’s motion towards the recycler. Carefully, though. She did not want to risk spilling any of the precious liquid.

“Watch me try.” Janeway’s narrowed gaze was dangerous, and her low voice had dropped another octave as she pinned Seven with a fierce glare, daring her to really try separating her from her coffee.

Stubborn to the core, Seven held her stare without shrinking or showing a single sign of intimidation. Seven was never intimidated by her angry looks or threats of reprimand, a fact that had frustrated Janeway to no end on many occasions. If only she knew how serious Janeway was about keeping her grip on her coffee cup. Of course she could always replicate another cup of coffee, but the principle of the matter still stood. No one pulled a cup of coffee out of Janeway's hand, not if they knew what was good for them.

“I will relinquish the coffee if you will agree to leave your ready room and consume a full meal’s worth of nutrition.”

“You’ll relinquish the coffee because I’m your captain and I’m giving you a direct order.”

“You well know by this point, Captain, that I am not opposed to disobeying your direct orders,” Seven challenged, and Janeway wanted to scream. Or kiss the stupid, haughty smirk from Seven’s face. Either would do. Neither were options.

They continued to stare each other down for another long moment, neither yielding. But Janeway could see the irritation building under Seven’s calm exterior, and both women tensed in preparation for an argument. Refusing to back down and let go of the coffee, Seven hissed, “Why must you insist on making it so difficult to care for your wellbeing?”

“Why must you insist on caring for my wellbeing?” Janeway returned, matching Seven’s intensity, and if a desperate note clung to the bite in her voice as she clutched the cup even tighter in her grip, she’d blame the subtle tone to her throbbing temples.

Seven’s head reeled back and an indignant spark flared in the woman’s posture; something in her seemed almost hurt. She leaned her head forward again on the next breath to resume her position in their staring match, resolute, and Janeway sensed she may have overstepped a certain boundary. She wasn’t sure exactly how to redirect the conversation now, and she refused to backtrack. Not with her coffee at stake. But her gaze did soften, and only when she allowed herself to consider Seven’s motivations for barging in to her ready room and attempting to pull an unfinished, still fresh cup of coffee away from her did she realize that their fingers were brushing against each other where they both gripped the steel mug. That Seven had leaned in just a hair closer than before, and they were now almost sharing the same breath.

“Why do you care so much about me, Seven?” The question was quiet, devoid of previous piqued temper, and so genuine she wasn’t sure the words had emerged from her own vocal chords.

Seven regarded Janeway with an unreadable expression, her focus intense as she searched Janeway’s face and presumably attempted to find an appropriate response. The words that met Janeway in the tense air between them, however, caught her off guard in their devastating bluntness. “Do you really not know?”

She thought she might, but she couldn’t wander down that rabbit hole of precarious possibility. She couldn’t permit the lapse, and so she firmed her denial so efficiently within her that she almost believed herself when she responded, “No. I don’t.”

Almost.

Sadness, confusion, determination, a plan. She watched all of these form in Seven’s eyes in rapid succession. She realized her own error in the next moment, as an understanding of exactly what Seven was planning to do hit her a fraction of a second before the words were leaving the woman’s mouth.

“Because I love you.”

Janeway blinked, standing rigid. She didn’t answer. She really wanted to drain the rest of the coffee in her cup, her form of liquid courage. Seven wasn't supposed to say those words out loud, to actually acknowledge the burgeoning feelings between them. Neither of them were. Yet here they were.

“I was attempting to make this apparent to you through indirect gestures.” Seven tilted her head and continued to pin Janeway with her gaze, the look only belying her nerves for how closely Janeway was studying Seven’s face. “Gestures of care.”

Janeway felt a sudden rush of shame wash over her. She looked down at the mug they both still held, where their hands were partially entwined by the stalemate. Seven’s next words, carefully and quietly articulated, broke through the last of her resolve, and she knew she was going to do something she probably ought not to that night. There was no putting the cat back in the bag, after all.

“I was following the suggestions of others, they recommended a more...subtle approach. Perhaps I should not have heeded their advice.”

Janeway filed that piece of information away for later, she would have to ask just who Seven had been discussing this with at some point. In this moment, she pushed concerns of propriety aside and reached her hand up to cup Seven’s cheek, the hand not still clutching her coffee. Her thumb traced the line of the other woman’s cheekbone, her fingers caressed the metallic implant that emerged from her skin where jaw met ear, and Janeway wondered how she could have messed this up so thoroughly in such little time.

“You never have been one for subtlety,” she said softly, and was gratified when she received the barest of smiles from Seven. She stroked the implant again, mindlessly now, and was silent for another moment under Seven’s still intense focus. “And I’ve never been good at taking care of myself,” she murmured finally, as if she were admitting a well kept secret. “I’m almost worse at letting others take care of me.”

“Almost?” A less controlled, less reserved person may have snorted in irritated amusement. On Seven, the word was accompanied only by a minute but pointed arch of her brow which raised the silver implant framing her left orbital socket, but the meaning was unmistakably the same.

Janeway dipped her head, a sad smile playing out across her thin lips as she wordlessly conceded the point. She brought her head back up to look into Seven’s eyes again, searching them as they watched her closely. She leaned in, slowly, and looked through half lidded eyes to check for any discomfort from Seven. Any indication Seven wished for her to pull back. She found none.

She wasn’t ready to confront this head on, couldn’t push the words _I love you, too_ from her chest, and she couldn’t bring herself to go from short-tempered snapping at Seven to pulling her into a true kiss. She’d give the woman whiplash. She was giving herself whiplash. She did, however, press a chaste kiss to the corner of Seven’s mouth. Emboldened when her touch was not rebuffed, she allowed her lips to linger; she wanted to instill everything she could not say into the gentle kiss. A gesture of care.

She pulled back enough to observe Seven's face once more, and quietly said, “I’m sorry for snapping at you, Seven. And I’m sorry I missed the deeper meaning of your attempts to care for me.”

Seven studied her with a measured gaze for a moment, and Janeway would have feared more for the response she would get if she weren’t currently trying to memorize the lipstick shaded print of her lips on Seven’s face. Evidence of a sweet moment, regardless of what happened next.

“I forgive you.”

Janeway smiled, genuine and bright, and she pressed another brief kiss to the same spot, attempting to place her lips precisely over the lipstick mark.

When she pulled away again, she admitted, “You weren’t wrong before. I am hungry, and I probably should eat something. Let’s go to the mess hall?”

A quick nod was followed by the satisfied and relieved enunciation of the word “Acceptable.”

Janeway didn’t move though, and Seven apparently was waiting for her to initiate before stepping away and exiting the room. But a pressing matter was still unresolved, one Janeway needed to fix, and she remained where she stood.

“Seven, I still need my coffee.”

The other woman looked down to where their hands were both still clasped over the captain’s steel cup, and with an exasperated look strongly conveyed in only microexpressions, she finally released her grip on Janeway’s coffee. Smiling triumphantly, Janeway brought the mug to her lips, and took a long sip.

After enjoying her coffee and her victory for another moment, she gestured to the door, still grinning and asked, “Shall we?”

Seven nodded, and both women stepped away from the recycler at last. As they were descending the small set of stairs that led back down to the lower level of the captain’s ready room, something else occurred to Janeway.

“Seven?”

Seven turned to face Janeway, hands clasped behind her back. “Yes, Captain?”

Janeway stepped inside Seven’s personal space again, grabbing a tissue from her desk and using it to wipe her lipstick from Seven’s cheek as she said, “Thank you. For caring about me.”

Another one of Seven's tiny smiles graced her stoic features, causing a fluttering warmth to spread in Janeway's chest when Seven replied, “Thank you for allowing me to care about you.”

Janeway smiled as well, earnest if a little vulnerable, then continued with Seven out of the ready room and toward the mess hall. A stack of padds lay forgotten on her desk, left until the next day to be dealt with.


End file.
